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P. AS. '5t 

College of Physicians and Surgeons 

Columbia University 

New York, New York 

Leonard M. Moss, Editor: Stephen K. Firestein and Charles M. Poser. 

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AD- " 


Grayson L. Kirk 

Acting President 
Columbia University 

\\"illard Cole Rappleye, M.D. 


College of Physicians and Surgeons 

Aura Edward Severinghaus 

Associate Dean and Secretary 

College of Physicians and Surgeons 


Samuel R. Detwiler 

Hans Clarke 

Magnus I. Gregersen 


Harry P. Smith 

OUR relations with the "Officers of Instruc- 
tion of the Faculty of Medicine" — for so 
they are called in the Catalogue — have been be- 
nign enough, although there were times when we 
wondered about the reassurances Dr. Truex had 
given us in First Year. You may remember how 
he told us not to regard the Faculty as enemies, 
but as guides along the long road, and so on. 
Group paranoia, as with any student body, never- 
theless seized us at times, and we felt a little like 
rioters behind slender street barricades, flinging 
futile sticks and stones against the tear gas and 

heavy artillery of a numerous and ruthless con- 

Who for example, will ever forget Dr. Atkin- 
son's question about the muscles of mastication, 
with diagrams, on the second exam in Gross 
Anatomy? Or Dr. Truex's ."let's-tie-all-the-loose- 
ends-together" lectures in which he tore at break- 
neck speed through the intricacies of the dience- 
phalon, heedless of the fact that we were miles 
behind him howling in outer darkness? Or Dr. 
Harry Smith's lessons in sharpening colored pen- 
cils with a razor? Or Second Year Surgery with 

Dr. Harry Smith denouncing anarchy among cells. 

Dr. Gilman pausing to extoll the cat. 



Dr. Walcott in Physiology lab. 

Dr. Riley contemplating diuresis in his nephrotics. 

Dr. McLaughlin and his "bone, bone, bone"? Or 
Dr. Tillman's wonderful slide showing simul- 
taneously the blood pressure variations during 
pregnancy of at least 100 patients, all on one 
graph? Or our first exposure to Dr. Moloy's view 
of the pelvis — android-gynecoid, anthropoid-platy- 
peloid, android-android, et cetera? 

But then there were the times when we could 
shake off our persecution complexes and sit back 
to indulge in the student's favorite indoor sport — 
chuckling at the idiosyncrasies of the Professors. 
Remember Dr. Engle, discussing some minute 

structure in the myelin sheath: "When you see 
this, forget it and move on to something impor- 
tant." And Dr. Stookey's "Be specific, class," and 
his blood-chilling admonition, "You'll never know 
it if you don't know it now.'' What ex-clinical 
clerk can forget Dr. Loeb's "Fiddle-dee-dee, 
Smith, you know and I know" — when Smith quite 
obviously doesn't know? A few privileged ones 
were on rounds the day Drs. Hanger and Wegria 
accused one another of being a "bucket physi- 
ologist" and a "cosmic physiologist," respectively. 
And everyone remembers Dr. Hanger's "This man 

Harry B. van Dyke 

Nolan D. C. Lewis Harold W. Brown George H. Humphreys II 


Public Health 



Robert F. Loeb 

H. Houston Merritt 

Howard C. Taylor 
Obstetrics and Gynecology 

Rustin McIntosh 

has a sick liver," while a few may recall his char- 
acterization of liver congestion as "hepatic priap- 
ism." And no one within hearing could forget Dr. 
Kneeland's introductory remarks to Physical Diag- 
nosis, when he discoursed on frankness in the 
patient-doctor relationship — "By frankness I do 
not mean that you should tell the hapless sufferer, 
'My dear fellow, you have irremediable cancer, 
and if you're alive in three months, I'll eat my 
shirt!' " 

And then there were our petty triumphs. The 
time Penny bounced out of a Biochemistry lec- 

ture with a lustily-bawling infant on her arm, 
causing Dr. Rittenberg to do a classic double-take. 
Bill Walker's exchange with Dr. Loeb on Friday 
rounds — when asked if coffee-ground vomitus 
must necessarily mean gastric bleeding, Walker 
sagely replied that the patient might have been 
drinking coffee (the expected answer), but went 
on to add that one usually did not drink the 
grounds. The Bard Professor admitted defeat. 
Picture to yourself Dr. John Taggart's discom- 
fiture when a nameless student, in response to a 
demand for quantitation in history-taking, de- 

Back at the Old Hos- 
pital when Osier and 
I taught Physical Diag- 
nosis . . . 


scribed .1 patient as feeling "45$ better" after 
treatment. And finally, Dr. Virginia Franz's mar- 
velous sample of "psychopathology of everyday 
life" — quizzing Steve Firestein on lumps and 
bumps she inquired, "Would you recommend that 
all males be removed?" — meaning moles, of 

The faculty had its triumphs, too. There was 
the time a student diffidently approached the oper- 
ating table for the first time, and much to his 
surprise heard the operator say to the unsterile 
nurse, "A stool for the second assistant, please." 
The clinical clerk's face (what could be seen be- 
tween cap and mask, clumsily donned) brightened 
for a brief instant, but was soon dashed by Dr. 
Bart Stevens' remark, "You realize, of course, that 
this isn't for your comfort, but just to get you 
out of the way." Defiant, the clerk replied, "I 
surmised as much." Maestro Titherington, silent 
till this moment, remarked, "Hah! look at him — 
three days on the service and he's paranoid al- 
ready!" But first honors for joke of the year go to 
Dr. Leland of the Bellevue First Medical Divi- 
sion. Dr. Dinnerstein, at conference, was discuss- 
ing the great value of saving for histologic ex- 
amination tonsils, appendices, and all pieces of 
tissue no matter how seemingly insignificant, which 
were removed from patients — this in contrast to 

The Surgical Staff reviewing the results of gastrectomy. 

the older custom of throwing specimens into the 
waste basket. He felt, he said, that all these "biop- 
sies" might be utilized for diagnostic purposes. 
From the back of the room, Dr. Leland's voice 
piped up — "How about circumcisions, doctor?" 

In sum, the Faculty (like the students) fur- 
nished during our four years abundant evidence 
in support of the motto G. B. Shaw recommended 
for every physician's shingle — "Remember, I, too, 
am human." 

Bacteriology Conference with Dr. Fox. 

Dr. Rose letting a little light into dark corners. 


4t& tyeat 

Gordon Allen 

Pelham, N. Y. 

A.B. Harvard 

U. S. Public Health, Staten Island, 
N. Y. 

Edward D. Andrew 
Englewood, N. J. 
A.B. Princeton 
Philadelphia General Hospital 

Mark L. Armstrong 
Coytesville, N. J. 
A.B. Houghton 

Bellevue Hospital, New York City 

Elizabeth F. Aub 

Belmont, Mass. 

A.B. Smith 

Massachusetts General Hospital 
Boston, Mass. 

Richard S. Banfield, Jr. 

Minneapolis, Minn. 

A.B. Amherst 

Bassett Memorial Hospital, 
Cooperstown, N. Y. 

William F. Beuscher 

Jersey City, N. J. 

A.B. Drew 

Air Force, Murphy Hospital, 
Waltbam, Mass. 


Morton A. Binder 

University City. Mo. 

B.S. Yale 

Barnes Hospital, St. Louis, Mo. 

Jose M. Blanco-Dalmau 

Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico 

Long Island College, Brooklyn. N. Y. 

Baruch S. Blu.mberg 

Far Rockaway, N. Y. 

B.S. Union 

Belief lie Hospital. New York City 

Howard M. Boskey 

New York City 

A.B. Brooklyn 

Flower Fifth Avenue Hospital. 
Sew York City 

Robert H. Carlson 

San Francisco, Calif. 

A.B. Stanford 

San Francisco-Stanford Dn .. 
Stanford, Calif. 

Arthur G. Carr, II 

Kingston. N. Y. 

A.B. Dartmouth 

St. Luke's Hospital. Sen York City 


John W. Carr 

Flushing, N. Y. 

A.B. Princeton 

St. Luke's Hospital, New York City 

Muriel Hope Chevious 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Strong Memorial Hospital, 
Rochester, N. Y. 

Nicholas P. Christy 

New York City 

A.B. Yale 

Presbyterian Hospital, New York City 

William T. Close 

Greenwich, Conn. 

Roosevelt Hospital, New York City 

Clark S. Collins 

Washington, D. C. 

A.B. Columbia 

University of Virginia, 
Charlottesville, Va. 

Burton S. Cominsky 

Kew Gardens, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Presbyterian Hospital, Neiv York City 


David S. Cooper 

Rocky River. Ohio 

A.B. Kcnyon 

II er Reed Hospital, 
Washington, D. C. 

William R. Cunnick, Jr. 
Dearborn, Mich. 
A.B. Princeton 

Bellevne Hospital, New York City 

Charles P. Curtis, Jr. 

Pelham, N. Y. 

A.B. Harvard 

St. Luke's Hospital. Sew York City 

Maxine E. Dark 

Greensboro, N. C. 

A.B. North Carolina 
M.S. North Carolina 

Bellevue Hospital. New York City 

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William E. Davis 
Tucson, Ariz. 
United Slates Army 

John L. Decker 

White Plains, N. Y. 

A.B. Richmond 

Presbyterian Hospital. New York City 


4£M< M'\ 

Mary Elizabeth Dickason 

V 1 

Short Hills, N. J. 

lbs «*•*■ 

A.B. Smith 


Presbyterian Hospital, New York City 


Richard B. Dominick 

- feh 

New York City 

A ?1 \ 

A.B. Yale 


Roosevelt Hospital, New York City 

Pierre M. Dreyfus 

New York City 

B.S. Tufts 

New York Hospital, New York City 

Alfred Edinburgh 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Beth Israel Hospital, New York City 

Robert T. Edmunds 

Toledo, Ohio 

A.B. Harvard 

St. Luke's Hospital, New York City 

Stephen K. Firestein 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Grace-New Haven Community 


Stephen Fleischer 

New York City 

B.S. Michigan 

University Hospital, Ohio Stale 
University, Columbus, Ohio 

Morris Freeman 

New York City 

A.B. New York University 
D.D.S. Columbia 

Kings County Hospital, 
Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Emanuel A. Friedman 

New York City 

A.B. Brooklyn 

Bellevite Hospital, Netv York City 

Theodore E. Gagliano 

West Caldwell, N. J. 

A.B. Princeton 

Hartford Hospital, Hartford, Conn. 

Jack W. Garnant 

New York City 

A.B. Iowa 

Grace-New Haven Community 

Don O. Gore 

Jamaica, B. W. I. 

A.B. Columbia 

Presbyterian Hospital, New York City 

\z* * r 


Cadvan O. Griffiths, Jr. 
West New York, N.J. 
A.B. Columbia 

Presbyterian Hospital, New York City 

John F. Hanlon 

San Francisco, Calif. 

A.B. Stanford 

San Francisco-Stanford Div., 
Stanford, Calif. 

Ronald E. Herson 

New Rochelle, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Belleviie Hospital, Neu> York City 

Monroe Himelstein 

Hartford, Conn. 

A.B. Wesleyan 

Hartford Hospital, Hartford, Conn. 

Nelson D. Holmquist 

New York City 

A.B. Princeton 

New York Hospital, Netv York City 

Caroline Banks Hunter 

Miami, Fla. 

B.S. Miami 

Philadelphia General Hospital 

Frank E. Iaquinta 

New York City 
A.B. Columbia 
Roosevelt Hospital, New York City 

Duncan G. Johnson 

Jackson Heights, N. Y. 

A.B. Amherst 

Methodist Hospital, Brooklyn, N. Y 

Frank W. Johnson 

Indianapolis, Ind. 

A.B. Swarthmore 
M.A. Columbia 

Philadelphia General Hospital 

Philip M. Johnson 

Upper Montclair, N. J. 

A.B. Dartmouth 

Bellerne Hospital. New York City 

Julian S. Kaiser 

East Granby, Conn. 

A.B. Yale 

Hartford Hospital, Hartford, Conn. 

Virginia Helen Kanick 

Richmond, Va. 

A.B. Columbia 

University Hospital, Cleveland, Ohio 


Donald T. Kasprzak 

North Tonawanda, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Lenox Hill Hospital, New York City 

Philip A. Khairallah 

Beirut, Lebanon 

A.B. American University, Beirut 

Duke University Hospital, 
Durham, N. C. 

Stephen M. Krane 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Massachusetts General Hospital, 
Bostoit, Mass. 

George W. LaFlash 

Hartford, Conn. 

A.B. Wesleyan 

St. Luke's Hospital, New York City 

Anthonv D. Lefkowitz 

New York City 

B.S. Yale 

Mt. Sinai Hospital, New York City 

Fred A. Lewis, Jr. 

Tuscaloosa, Ala. 

A.B. Alabama 

BeUevne Hospital, New York City 

Gordon A. Logan 
Orangeburg, N. V. 

B.S. Purdue 

M.S. Purdue 

King County Hospital, Seattle. Wash. 

Theresa Mary Long 

New York City 

A.B. Hunter 

Strong /Memorial Hospital, 
Rochester, N. Y. 

John C. McGiff 
Jackson Heights, N. Y. 
B.S. Georgetown 
Cincinnati General Hospital 

Samuel Madell 

Elmhurst, N. Y. 

A.B. Illinois 

Mt. Sinai Hospital, New York City 

George C Mani 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Belleitte Hospital, New York City 

Paul E. Morentz 

New York City 

B.D. Lutheran Theological 
A.B. Muhlenberg 

Sydenham Hospital, New York City 


Frank L. Morrell 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Montefiore Hospital, New York City 

Patricia Nolan Morrell 

New York City 

B.S. Tufts 

Montefiore Hospital, New York City 

^^ ^ 

Leonard M. Moss 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Bellevue Hospital, New York City 

Erland R. Nelson 

Cayce, S. C. 

A.B. Carthage 

University of Illinois, Research and 
Educational, Chicago, III. 

George L. Nicklin, Jr. 

Oil City, Pa. 

Bassett Memorial Hospital, 
Cooperstown, N. Y . 

Barbara E. O'Connell 

New York City 

A.B. Cornell 

Strong Memorial Hospital, 
Rochester. N. Y. 


Richard L. O'Connell 

New York City 

A.B. Cornell 

Genesee Hospital, Rochester, N.Y 

Janet Eddy Ordway 

New York City 

A.B. Mt. Holyoke 

Mar) Hitchcock Hospital, 
Hanover, N. H. 

1(1HN A. OrDWAY. II 

New York City 

A.B. Harvard 

Mar) Hitchcock Hospital. 
Hanover, X. H. 

Julian Orleans 

Newark, N. J. 

A.B. Columbia 

Michael Reese Hospital. Chicago. 111. 

Elmer Pader 

New York City 

B.S. College of the City of New York 

Bellevue Hospital. New York City 

Louis Z. Pampellonne 

Port of Spain. Trinidad 

B.S. Columbia 

St. Vincent's Hospital. Sew York Cily 


William C. Pomeroy, Jr. 

Los Angeles, Calif. 

A.B. California 

Los Angeles County Hospital 

Charles M. Poser 

New York City 

B.S. College of the City of New York 

Roosevelt Hospital, New York City 

John D. Rainer 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 
A.M. Columbia 

Ml. Sinai Hospital, New York City 

William C. Revercomb, Jr. 

Charlestown, W. Va. 

A.B. Princeton 

University Hospital, Cleveland, Ohio 

Earl C. Risbeck 

New York City 

B.S. U. S. Merchant Marine Academy 

St. Luke's Hospital, New York City 

Herman Roiphe 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

New York Hospital, New York City 


Lawrence S. Ross 

Hempstead, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

Cincinnati General Hospital 

Enoch J. Saphire 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Belt) /srael Hospital. Sew York City 

Julian B. Schorr 

New York City 

Morrisania Hospital, New York City 

Madeline F. Schwab 

New York City 

B.S. New York University 

Roosevelt Hospital. New York City 

Ernest Schwartz 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 
A.M. Columbia 

University of California Hospital, 
San Francisco. Calif. 

Frank A. Selxas 

Riverdale, N. Y. 

A.B. Cornell 
A.M. Columbia 

Monlefiore Hospital, New York City 


Donald A. Senhauser 

Dover, Ohio 

A.B. Columbia 

Roosevelt Hospital, New York City 

(de mohrenschildt) 

Haverford, Pa. 

B.S. Raddiffe 

Baylor University Hospital, 
Dallas, Texas 

Dana M. Sheldon 

New York City 

Bassett Memorial Hospital, 
Cooperstown, N. Y. 

David B. Siebert 

Metuchen, N. J. 

A.B. Princeton 

St. Luke's Hospital, New York City 

Robert S. Sioussat 

New York City 

A.B. Wesleyan 

Strong Memorial Hospital, 
Rochester, N. Y. 

Barton P. Smith 

Canajoharie, N. Y. 

A.B. Yale 

Bellevne Hospital, Neiv York City 


I ami s M. Stormont 

Evanston, 111. 

B.S. Yale 

Strong Memorial Hospital, 
Rochester, K. Y. 

Francis C. Svmonds, Jr. 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 
A.B. Princeton 

Presbyterian Hospital. New York City 

Victor M. Torres-Rodriguez 

Coamo, Puerto Rico 

B.S. Puerto Rico 

Kings Comity Hospital, 
Brooklyn. K. Y. 

Penelope Kinsley Tosteson 
Falls Church, Va. 
A.B. Radcliffe 

Robert S. Trueman 

Columbus, Ind. 

B.S. Purdue 

San Francisco-Stanford Div., 
Stanford, Calif. 

Paul P. Van Arsdel, Jr. 

Seattle, Wash. 

B.S. Yale 

Presbyterian Hospital. New York City 


Nicholas W. Van Leeuwen 

Overveen, Holland 

Walter Reed Hospital. 
Washington, D. C. 

William Vogt, Jr. 
Glen Ridge, N. J. 
B.S. Cornell 
Deceased March 1951 

William G. Walker, Jr. 

Brockton, Mass. 

A.B. Yale 

Bellevne Hospital, New York City 

Lila Amdurska Wallis 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

New York Hospital, New York City 

William C. Walsh 

New York City 

A.B. Virginia 

Rhode Island General Hospital, 
Providence, R. I. 

Elizabeth Watkins 

New York City 

A.B. Randolph-Macon 

Passavant Hospital, Chicago, 111. 


Robert J. Weiss 

New York City 

A.B. George Washington 

Bellevue Hospital. Sew York Cily 

J. Lawrence Werther 

Weehawken, N. J. 

A.B. Dartmouth 

Ml. Sinai Hospital. Sea- York City 

Philip L. Whitelaw 

New York City 

A.B. Columbia 

Montefiore Hospital, Neu> York Cily 

Edward K. Williams 

New York City 

A.B. Williams 

Presbyterian Hospital. Keif York City 

Arthur D. Wilson 

Somerville, N. J. 

A.B. Princeton 

Lenox Hill Hospital. New York City 

Walter S. Wood 

Snug Harbor, N. Y. 

A.B. Columbia 

University of Illinois, Research and 
Educational, Chicago, 111. 


Camera -3A 


Roy L. McKittrick 

Rocky Ford, Colo. 

A.B. Colorado 

Bel/erne Hospital, New York City 

Marvin R. Mufson 

New York City 

Michael Reese Hospital, Chicago, 111. 

Seymour Schifman 
New York City 
A.B. Brooklyn 

Where the elite meet to eat. 

Mrs. Richardson gets the inside story. 

Edward J. Thorns, Resilience Manager. Stella matches wits with the gang across the counter in the Bard Hall Grill. 

Eurcl JJJi 

BARD HALL, the Hotel on the Hudson, offers 
facilities unequalled among medical schools 
in these parts. It is a complete community, and 
truth to tell, the social activities centering around 
the student dormitory are more elaborate than 
many of us encountered during war-year college 
careers. Largely owing to the P. & S. Club's 
efforts, one may go dancing with the girls, eat 
dinner with the girls, watch television, the movies, 
or listen to a lecture with the girls. For those 
interested in coeducational indoor sports, the 
swimming pool, gymnasium, card room, laundry, 
and third-floor landing are at our disposal. 

Ordinarily sedate and well-mannered. Bard Hall 
has its unbent moments: Those pleasant, sunny, 
spring afternoons when third-floor sundeck sirens 
are dispersed by affectionately guided water 
bombs; Senior Class Night, set against a back- 
ground of smashing glasses and beer cans hurled 
from the roof, and featuring not long ago a fire 
hose drill in ankle-deep water: the rude initiations 
of newly hired busboys who periodically cast trays 
of crockery down the dish hoist to the squash 
court; and there are, in fact, some souls so puerile 
as to spend their spare time scaling hoarded shirt 
cardboards out the window (we never could get 

one as far as the park). Indeed, I wish I had a 
nickel for every time I dashed from my room in 
response to some casually tapped fire gong. 

For those who leave this Congenial Cloister 
the recollection of P. & S. has many aspects, the 
lighter hardly less memorable than the more seri- 
ous ones. 

No time for supper, Kukla is on tonight. 


" — so thick bestrewn 
Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, 
Under amazement of their hideous change." 
—Paradise Lost. I. 311-313. 

f\oauei L-ja tier* 


MILTON was talking about the fallen angels 
in Hell, but even the most casual look at 
the accompanying daguerreotypes will convince 
you that "hideous change" is not too violent a 
term for what has been wrought upon these in- 
nocent faces. They are reproduced with some 
hesitancy, for it is not pleasant to imagine the 
horror of a parent suddenly confronted with such 
an inexact facsimile of the child he has struggled 

to educate. The editors therefore urge those repre- 
sented here — i.e., those who can recognize them- 
selves — to rip out this page before the dear ones 
start thumbing through the book. Treating mem- 
bers of one's own family for acute psychotic epi- 
sodes has its peculiar difficulties. 

What are these portraits? Models for a Chas. 
Addams cartoon? Specimens of "various deviants" 
for use in the Szondi test? Unhappily, none of 







these. They are YOU. So far as the faculty is con- 
cerned, they are you. So far as your grades are 
concerned they are you. So far as you are con- 
cerned at all — and brother, you'd better be con- 
cerned — they are you. For it is by means of these 
pictures that you are picked out, set apart from 
your classmates, and assessed. If you happen to 
bear a fatal resemblance, that is if your picture 
bears a resemblance to this puerile gawk or that 
whey-faced gargoyle, so much the worse for you. 
THE MACHINE requires that each card bearing 
one of these horrid photographs must have a 
grade inscribed upon it, and woe betide the in- 
structor who submits to headquarters a stack of 
cards with one or two ungraded. His understand- 
able perplexity over the identity of the pictured 
faces may have unfortunate repercussions. Hence, 
hapless one, the 74 they gave you in Surgical 
OPD instead of the 96 you thought you deserved. 
It is established, then, that these objets d'art 
have dogged your footsteps for four years. What 
other purpose do they serve? Well, it must be 
obvious that their entertainment value is immense. 

Picture the fun the professors must have in the 
solemn conclave of faculty meetings with these 
THINGS in front of them. Can you hear the 
bursts of raucous laughter ? 

"Since when is anencephaly a prerequisite for 
admission to P. & S. ?" 

"Why is this photograph pasted on upside 
down — oh! bless my soul, it isn't!" 

"Why does that man persist in taking three 
pictures on the same negative — can't we afford to 
up his budget a little?" 

"What's this girl doing with a beard — aren't 
we weeding out the adrenogenital people now?" 
(Laughter and cries of "Hear, hear!") 

The most reassuring interpretation one can put 
on these dreadful miniatures is that their main 
purpose is to amuse. That is what we would like 
to believe. But it hasn't all been laughter. The 
conscientious faculty member could not have sup- 
pressed an icy shudder as he contemplated the 
faces of this year's crop of interns. "Abject and 
lost," indeed. 



Con ftdent 


^V ■ ' ■•■ 

slrMr Tv" 



^Jhen J hi 

Frank and Judy Seixas with Peter, three years old, Abigail, nine months old, and Lizzy. 

Mark and Bert Armstrong 
with Jonathan, one year old. 


Dick Dominick and Oliver, age seven months 

Were 3U 

Louis and Jenny Pampellonne with Elise-Ann, 
eleven months old. 

Charles and Ann Curtis with Christina, six and 
a half. Ellen, rive, and Isabel, one year old. 

Sam and Joy Madell with Kenneth Steven, one 
and a half years old. 

Bill and Bettine Close with Tina, six, Glennie, three, and Alex, six months 

ANYONE who sits in the Hospital cafeteria 
for Sunday dinner, and watches the residents 
totter in with their long-suffering wives and 
sophisticated children, must realize that the "Joe 
College" variety of post-graduate medical student 
is becoming as obsolete as last year's Atom Bomb. 
The New Order is reflected in our class statis- 
tics, which show more than 60 per cent married; 
and in this group we boast a full fifteen examples 
of that great American institution, The Family. 
Remarkable as it may appear, among the fifteen 
we note with pride three obstetrical wonders tied 
for the title of Grand Multip of the Class with 
three progeny apiece. 

For the embryo physician blessed with a small 
bundle or two, there were doubtless many occa- 
sions on which the quiet of home vied with the 
atmosphere of Madison Square Garden during a 

peace rally. The non-parents among us needed 
only to note the bags beneath the eyes of a recent 
father to conclude that he had been drafted for 
Dawn Patrol the night before. 

But there were compensations as well, like hav- 
ing a small voice wish Daddy good luck on his 
"g'sams." Then, too, one never had to put up 
with infantile vocabulary, as Junior could tell you 
that his "bladder is full," or that he thought that 
last rumble "hurt his patella." 

The situation is not, however, without its in- 
herent dangers. Recall the case of the P. & S. 
family summering next door to the family of the 
Chief of Medicine at a well-known Boston hos- 
pital, and consider the problems arising when 
P. & S. children tell Boston hospital children that 
"My Daddy's a better doctor than yours is!" 

Howie and Rita Boskey with Madeline, Mannie and Judy Friedman, with Penny Tosteson with Heather, four 

age two months. Lynn Alice, one year old. months old, and Karen, age four years. 



7 e# >v 


2k .^^^ 





ALUMNI gathered about the international 
symbol of the brimming beer glass told us 
a legend about the Great Nightmare that was the 
15th of November, old style internship day. Fol- 
lowing that wild night of telegrams mixed with 
in vivo pickling, the Senior Class used to settle 
down to some solid comfort, imbibing to the full 
that heady brew of ethanol and erotic pleasure 
recalled in happy memory as the Fourth Year. 

But such was not to be for Us of 1951; for we 
are different. We declare this simple fact out of 
no false pride. People have been telling us we are 
different ever since half the class flunked the 
bacteriology mid-term exam. For us the internship 
date was pushed back three months so that the 
excruciating pleasure of the headless chicken chase 
was prolonged over almost half a year. Let us 
consider the case of a Typical Senior (hereafter 
referred to as "T. S."). 

Brimming with confidence from the Dean's 
initial incendiary pep-talk about applying for in- 

ternships, T. S. chose four Impossible Institutions. 
Full of medical savoir faire and dressed in som- 
berest clothes, he journeyed from one to another 
for those wonderful, wonderful interviews, those 
homey little prototypes of Information Please. All 

Drs. Loeb and Hanger ladling destiny with a free hand. 


2:45 P.M. 

3:15 P.M. 

Most of the class was gathered in Amphitheater A 

anxiously awaiting their telegrams which were hidden 

until 3 P.M. in a shoe box in the Dean's Office. 

The results were the best in P. & S. history, over two 

thirds of the students getting the position of their first 


5:00 P.M. 

10:00 P.M. 

Jockeying for position reached a feverish peak as some In a few cases, families had to be moved and plans 

hospitals demanded almost immediate acceptance of their reformulated because of an unexpected outcome, 

internship appointments. 


The nervous strain of the waiting period and the joy in the 
outcome were shared by our patient wives. 

the way to Boston he practiced saying, "I don't 
know" with the correct inflection. 

"Who first described mitral stenosis?' 


"A man lights a cigar, and it explodes. What's 
the diagnosis?" "Gastro-colic fistula." 

"How would you eradicate ornithosis in New 
York?" "Shoot all the pigeons in Central Park." 

"Do you think beryllium is one of the toxic 
components of smog?" "Yes, depending on the 
conditions — that is, depending on whether or not 
there's beryllium in the smog." 

"Have you ever seen a case of Bernheim's 
syndrome?" "No." 

And so it went. With the passage of the fleet- 
ing weeks T. S.'s confidence in his value to the 
medical profession soared; as it did, he became 
somewhat more reasonable and realistic, submit- 
ting four more applications to institutions he 
might be able to get into, like North Bergen Cat 
and Dog (mixed internship), and the Bronx Shirt 
Hospital (straight surgical) . 

At long last Twilight Tuesday, the 20th, ar- 

rived. Amply premedicated with Demerol and 
scopolamine following a full week on the six- 
feeding, bland diet, T. S. armed himself with a 
crossword puzzle and took his place in the amphi- 
theater. At the appointed time the Dean appeared 
with a shoebox full of glad tidings, and tele- 
grams were thrown around like New Year's con- 
fetti. T. S. calmly kept his place, expecting to 
make an easy selection among his eight accept- 
ances. But what if he really were accepted by 
Johns Hopkins, New York Hospital, Presbyterian, 
and Massachusetts General? 

When the hubbub subsided, T. S. sat there 
with his one alternacy and nonchalantly went back 
to his crossword puzzle. He wasn't going to let 
those silly old hospitals rattle him. If they didn't 
want him, their loss. A half hour more of these 
ruminations, and he finally noticed that he had 
filled in the last eight words on the desk top. 
Another half hour and he joined the patrons of 
the Bell Telephone Company; and lo! — three 
hours later, his acceptance came through. 

"There's nothing wrong with the program up 
at Bronx Shirt," he told his classmates, "and be- 
sides — free uniforms." 

Celebrations followed at the T. G. The class dissolved its cares 
in alcohol two days later at Bard Hall. 


Cfass of 1951 

AH, the Fourth Year, that wonderful time of 
life, the easy-going stroll up that last ivory- 
coated height to Commencement Day. 

Strange to say, most of us seemed to survive 
the Great Travail of the first three years — this 
despite the welter of quizzes and exams and the 
necessity of keeping an eye on certain classmates 
at night, tor fear of awakening the next morning 
with cleat marks up and down one's back. 

Some of us began the Fourth Year with more 
specialties, which whizzed by so quickly that we 
recollect little more than the spelling of the course 
titles. Of happy memory are Dr. Miller's der- 
matologic sessions in medical Greek and Latin. 
("No questions, please, just look at the lesion.") 
And then there was the little old lady in the 
Orthopedic Clinic who came in with low back 
pain and demurely inquired whether we thought 
she had "fractured her cockpit." Mention must 
also be made of those sunny afternoons spent 

Let me tell you, this meal ticket deal is really the 

watching the televised baseball games on the 
Prostatectomy Service. 

Group Clinic offered a relaxed program of daily 

The lady says she thinks she's dragging something. 

Damn it, McGiff. no more of these "routine Tay-Sachs" 
admission notes. 


Morris Freeman coming down ROA. 

lab by returning to it bags full of old lab reports; 
and the psychology of a four-year-old veteran of 
twenty-five admissions who went around doing 
pantomime blood counts on all ward personnel. 
Withal good experience, and most of the prospec- 
tive fathers tried to get through it in time. 

• Continuing our junket along the paths of re- 
gression, we passed from the newborn to the 
realm of the unborn — an area just full of sur- 
prises. After the ten-day jiffy course in the intri- 
cacies of the Great Miracle, we emerged from the 
labor room fully competent to win the Boy Scout 
Merit Badge in Midwifery, but were cautioned to 
refer any difficult deliveries to the nearest cop or 

pot luck, and at the end of two months most of 
us could boast a number of really interesting 
patients in addition to a generous assortment of 
crockery. This was really the life — the chance to 
practice medicine in one's own office. Golly! 
Ultimately some patient would break the spell 
with a quip like, "Thank you very much for ex- 
amining me, young man, but tell me — when do I 
get to see the doctor?" 

On to Pediatrics, nicknamed by some the 
Animal Farm, where for another two months we 
studied the vagaries of H. influenzae, jugular 
punctures, and agitated mothers. The most im- 
portant lessons in pediatrics seemed to be left out 
of the textbooks. One afternoon in the Clinic, 
while scrutinizing an infant's tonsils from the side 
of the examining table, we were greeted by a 
chronologically appropriate expression of disap- 
proval; after wiping ourselves off, we resolved 
thenceforth to stand outside the target area. 
Equally valuable knowledge involved the graphic 
dangers of resting a strange infant's bottom on 
the sleeve of one's white jacket. 

The wards also had their humorous diversions, 
like the precocious lad of five who bewildered the 

Our Gynecology Clinic experience etched into 
memory the dangers of large-scale medicine when 
a pert young thing walked into the examining 
room clutching her unmentionables in her hand, 
and asked whether she had at long last found the 
Neurology Clinic. In the land of infra-umbilical 
medicine one was recognized as well-trained by 

Barbara Dominick, Barry Blumberg, Nick Van Leeuwen 

and Bet Dickason watching Dr. Rijnders operate in his 

hospital in Holland. 


the successful development of the Middle-Dis- 
tance Stare. 

Down to the East River for Bellevue Medicine 
ii. wards full of pathologic museum pieces. Many 
of those chests were so full of noises that we 
didn't dare describe them before checking next 
door to make sure the elevator wasn't passing by. 
Here at last we had descended from the Ivory 
Tower to the land of galloping dandruff, the sins 
of the palate, and the little red bug. How com- 
pulsively we scrubbed our hands while on the 
Chest Service! They tell me my fingernails will 
grow back in a few months. 

At last the elective: Some of us spent it on the 
Aphasia, Incontinence, and Uric Acid Service at 
Goldwater (occasionally known as "The Rock"), 
others up at Skiing General Hospital in Coopers- 
town, while the remainder chose the less exotic 
haunts of Roosevelt and St. Luke's. 



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Miss Russell on guard against shoplifters. 

Away from home we no longer went into 
opisthotonus when the attending physicians looked 
our way during Grand Rounds and our Babinskis 

At P. & S. brunch means bridge plus lunch. 

no longer became positive at the drop of a cotton 
ball. As visiting physicians we told the downtown 
folk at St. Luke's and Roosevelt how it was done 
at the Big Hospital. 

Some of us acted as substitute interns during 
our elective, armed with small black notebooks 
crammed with pearls written in microprint. With 
all the savoir faire at our disposal we asked our 
first new admission in our best report-promoting 
voice, "What is your chief complaint?" Like a 
shot came the answer: "Doctor, I have paroxysmal 
auricular tachycardia and if it continues for 30 
minutes, I go into pulmonary edema. My attack 
has been going 20 minutes already. Do some- 
thing." As the rales slowly gurgled their way up 
to the clavicles, how we wished we could read 
what our little black book said about paroxysmal 
auricular tachycardia. 

A short year, really, culminating in the Great 
Day when being called "Doctor" no longer made 
us turn around to see who else was in the room. 


Front row — Ernest Reiner, Robert Silbert, Garth Dettinger, Denton Cox. Middle row — Murray 
Greene, John Bozer, Alvin Margolius, Willera Roosen, Paul Beres, Donald Hoiub, Herbert Magram. 
Back row — Joseph Shipp, Allyn Kidwell, Leonard Brandon, Marcus Key, George Allen, Robert 
Flowers, Charles Doolittle, John Hosmer, Arthur Hall, John Ultmann, John O'Loughlin, Harold 
Orvis. Robert Feldman. Paul Gilbert. 

ward, let us think back to our first try at history- 
taking, our initial Doctor-Patient relationship. It 
was a two-way, give-and-take proposition in those 
days. You give me your history, and I'll take a 
powder. (The preceptor bounced those histories 
like rubber checks at the Corn Exchange Bank). 
And crystallized in memory was the day that tall, 
lankj- fellow told the Professor off in front of the 
whole group. Boy, did he tell him! What was that 

fellow's name — you know, the one who never did 

We saw all sorts of things that year: the oper- 
ating rooms, the OPD, the Fracture Service, and 
surgical pathology slides. With it came the real- 
ization that we'd have to do some work before 
we'd know it all. We had a highly memorable 
opportunity to learn radical surgery (left breast, 
spleen, and descending colon), as well as con- 


Les DeGroot doing stat white count for Harkness. 

servative surgery (right breast, gall bladder, and 
ascending colon). If the reader wishes to test for 
his physiologic age, let him try holding a retrac- 
tor for eight hours as steadily as he did in the 
third year. 

We finished by looking at skin lesions, doing 

a number of ENT and neurologic examinations, 
several psychiatric work-ups, and drinking an esti- 
mated 7,000 cups of coffee in the old Presbyterian 
Hospital Soda Fountain during the ten weeks on 
specialties. A poll taken by the authors in that 
'same Soda Fountain on the question, "Did you 
ever really see a pair of vocal cords?" returned, 
Yes 3%, No 46%, and Uncertain 51%. We re- 
gret to say that we were unable to complete a 
similar survey in regard to certain structures in 
the eyegrounds due to difficulties in phrasing the 
questions in such a way that a representative group 
in the class could give specific answers. No one 
will forget the modestly proportioned lecture room 
on the tenth floor of the College where the Ap- 
plied Anatomy lectures were given. For those 
readers who look for more facts in a history of 
this type, the authors are prepared to produce cer- 
tified air temperature recordings up to 153° F. in 
that room. 

We listened to the assortment of medical enter- 
tainment prepared for our class by the Depart- 

Those long hours with the microscope and the umpteen exams we wrote were only preparation for . . . 


ment of Medicine. Each Saturday we were treated 
to a parade of stars who went through their acts 
in the Amphitheatre pit with a stage crew spe- 
cially trained in turning the lights on and off on 
cue, flashing slides on the screen and writing in 
multicolored luminescent chalk. Dutifully, we 
asked questions when the presiding physician 
during the closing seconds of the Combined Staff 
Conference called for comments from the "Back 
Rows." We know that we will be forgiven for 
attending Polgar's demonstration of hypnotism 
rather than the clinic on Bacterial Mutants. We 
know because most of the "Front Row" was in 
Amphitheatre F with us concentrating hard and 
exercising their imaginations. 

It was during the Clinical Pathological Con- 
ferences that we had an opportunity to match wits 
with the experts. Making the diagnosis was like 
betting on the races, you devise a system and play 
the odds. In women, it's two to one in favor of 
lupus erythematosis judging from past perform- 

. . . rising and shining with the old blood wagon. 

ances, while hemochromatosis is a six to five shot 
in the men's department with such dark horses 
as cirrhosis, myocardial infarction and hyperten- 
sion far down on the list of suspects. We will 

Fencing w r ith Uncle Robert across the bedtable. 

A clean jacket, please. I've got the first bed on 
the right Friday morning. 

I better pay up or I'll never get out of the third year. 

never forget the time we got the diagnosis Dr. 
Hanger missed. Sorry, gentlemen, we can not 
accept your offer of a Presbyterian Hospital in- 
ternship until next year. It would not be fair to 
the rest of the class. 

We sat politely as the brighter lights of the 
Fourth Year delivered the Friday noon Medicine 
lectures. In one hour our older brothers wafted 
us through the world's literature on the etiology, 
clinical manifestations, differential diagnosis and 
treatment of their special topic, and wound up 
with a coup de gras, the preliminary results of 
treatment with ACTH in a series of one case. We 
were ready for a few milligrams of Cortisone our- 
selves, but managed to live through to the stage 
of countershock and gave the lecturer his well- 
earned round of applause. 

At Willard Parker we were taken by the hand 
and ushered, clad in white gowns, through the 
infectious diseases wards, compulsively washing 
our hands after even the most imaginary contact 
with the rashy and sniffling youngsters. Remember 

the bravado with which we strode through the 
measles ward tossing all sterile precautions to the 
winds? We had the measles at the age of six! 
And with what reluctance did we sacrifice those 
sunny spring Saturday afternoons to the search 
for pseudomembranes, strawberry tongues and 
morbilliform eruptions. In fact, some of us will 
have to make up the sixth session next year. 

Dr. Jaycox proudly demonstrating the handiwork of the 
cancer killer. 


We also suffered. After .1 full year of clinical 
experience we once again dove for the textbooks 
to overcome the last obstacle between us and what 
is reported to be an easy fourth year. Great was 
our anguish as we plodded our way through 
Ophthalmology, ENT, Dermatology and Surgery. 
in an effort to answer such questions as, "What 
would you do if a patient who was hard of hearing 
came into your office?" Just speaking louder would 
not be an acceptable answer unless it were gen- 
erously padded with otological facts and figures. 
And what a job it was reading Cecil from cover 
to cover as well as all issues of the Green Journal 
over the past two years preparing for the Medi- 
cine exam. 

We left behind us not only the three required 
courses of the third year — Medicine, Surgery, and 

Specialties — but also a wide variety of work under 
the heading "Elective": Neurology, Pathology, 
and Marriage proved to be the most popular sub- 
jects. Twelve of us were married during the year, 
while eight children were born. Ten different 
clinical electives were taken, some as far away as 
California, and some in the Army. A few of us 
participated in research projects, and, needless to 
say, during that era cancer and the adrenal cortex 
rilled the stage. It should be recorded that while 
some were doing this type of work, others were 
taking trips to Vermont for skiing, evenings off 
for a few beers at the Tropical Gardens, dates to 
the Spring Formal. Did you say Spring Formal? 
That means . . . 


Laying in a seven-day supply. 


2 ad ty 


Front row — John Williams, Joseph Alpers, Frederick Duhl, Robert Richie, Gardner Fay, Clayton 
DeHaan, Middle row — Clifton Howard, John Nork, Bernard Schoenberg, Jose Lopez, John Hardie, 
James Thorpe, John Bryant, James Terry, Arthur Phinney. Back row — Herbert Poch, Benjamin 
Wright, Paul Errera, Miguel Garcia, Marvin Zimmermann, Robert Milan, Edwin Maynard, Howard 
Thompson, Robert Beilman, Joseph Karns, James Miller. 

Claii of 1953 

TT started all over again in early September, and 
after ten minutes of the first lecture we felt as 
though there hadn't ever been a vacation. The 
remainder of the morning was spent learning to 
sharpen pencils, a skill we acquired with rapidity 
but not without incident. Most of us worked the 
first pencil into a stump within fifteen minutes, 
while four hapless ones wound up in the Emer- 
gency Ward with sliced thumbs. An auspicious 
beginning ! 

Very few dared look down the long, hard road 
of the second year, and little did we guess that 
we would soon be buffeted by a rapid and un- 
remitting tattoo of quizzes and exams totalling 
more than eighty-five, to say nothing of the count- 
less hours in laboratories, stacks of books, and 
bushels of lectures. 

Of BacT little emerges from the haze of mem- 
ory except for those joyous hours spent attempting 
to find out just how patient a rabbit can be. Then 


Fro/;/ rou — Walter Reister, Peter Ways, William Taggart, Ronald Pfister, Oscar Krieger, Joel 
Markowitz. Middle row — Jay Meltzer, Stanley Edelman, Roberta Goldring, Alice Kross, Julie 
Schoepf, Joanne Lloyd-Jones, Fletcher Riley, Stanley Einhorn, LeRoy McDaniel. Back rou — Robert 
Van Hoek, Robert Leeper, Ernest Vandeweghe, James Gearhart, Fred Whitcomb, Selden Dickinson, 
Merrill Bradley, George Hyde. Arthur AronofT, Seymour Kalechstein, Robert Milch, Joseph Karas, 
Jay Goodkind, James Robinson, Richard Michaels. 

it happened: Dr. Rose's quiet voice spoke, "We're 
going up to the laboratory now, and we're going 
to sit down with our pencils, and we're going to 
have a little quiz." A list went up, and half the 
class went down for personal reassurance. What 
noticeable sighs of relief when the orals and what- 
not at long last brought BacT to a close, and the 
whole experience faded into the limbo of pain- 
less amnesia. 
By the end of the trimester the elements of 

inflammation and repair had been mastered, and 
Pathology became an uptown annex of the Art 
Students' League. The local Rembrandts were fill- 
ing their notebooks with technicolor incarnations 
of various microscopic nightmares. 

The first hitch was over, and we relaxed with 
the initial class party, a smashing success. The 
floor show that evening made the Copacabana 
revue look like a Sunday School Easter pageant. 
Duhl, Neely, and company turned out so polished 


Highlight of the day — lunch. 

a performance that we began to wonder which 
was vocation and which was hobby. 

Our tour of the vagaries of rural plumbing was 
masterfully conducted by Dr. Brown, whose 

knowledge of the intimate habits of the black 
widow spider made us aware of the dangers lurk- 
ing in the dark crevices of quaint wayside sanitary 
facilities. The only casualty of the course was one 
luckless character who burst into florid psychosis 
with active hallucinations of Taenia Solium scolices 
in his oatmeal. 

Blood, sweat, and tears, but mostly blood — that 
was Clinical Path. We eventually decided that this 
course was the faculty's insidious technique for 
keeping us divided among ourselves; for how 
could you be friends with anybody who stabbed 
you every day for three months? Neuropath lec- 
tures provided a field day for the local Rip Van 
Winkles; why stay awake when one could get it 
all from the department's notes, those mimeo- 
graphed combinations of the Congressional Record 
and World Almanac? 

Heeding the Dean's admonition to "learn by 

Would you play that one over again? 

It says "23 year old medical student.' 


doing," some of the students put last year's em- 
bryology course into practice, and cigars all around 
on three occasions was the happy outcome. 

As the year wore on, the drawing of pictures 
in Path Lab faded to its proper perspective, 
namely, fewer pictures — this despite departmental 
brandishing of colored pencils to the accompani- 
ment of a flurry of white envelopes. These minor 
disturbances did not alter the class' enthusiasm 
for the course. This was never better indicated 
than by the sendoff given Dr. Baumann on his 
departure for the Army. Although the long arm 
of Uncle Sam came no closer to us than that, 
prophylactic enlistments in R. O. T. C. rose 

The thumbscrews were released for the second 
time as our trimester ground to a screeching halt, 
and we celebrated again with home-brewed Bac- 
chanalia. This fling gave the Amoral Choral 

Stop when you reach bone. 

Society its second opportunity to flex its vocal 

Coming down the home stretch, a healthy 
hyperventilation prevailed. Pharmacology raised 
false hopes of lending us our second wind — but 

If you don't sit still, we'll give you to the Surgeons. 

So. what is it? 


Jim Neely, Fred Duhl and Roy McDaniels holding forth at the class party. 

instead produced almost total apnea which nearly 
culminated in asphyxia. 

It was soon apparent that the cats used in the 

Dr. Baumann being congratulated on his appoint- 
ment to the U. S. Army. 

pharmacology laboratory experiments were heartier 
than we were and by the end of the afternoon 
were usually in better shape. Finally the mysteries 
of the autonomic drugs and the vegitative nervous 
system were solved and, although our revolving 
drum tracings looked like a cross between an 
electroencephalogram and an EKG, we knew what 
tracings we should have gotten. 

As a course surgery occupied a special place in 
our hearts; it provided our first contact with pa- 
tients — dogs — and also an occasional Homo Sap. 
In Physical Diagnosis we percussed each other 
black and blue, and listened innocently with 
Laennec's "Marvelous Instrument," entering with 
Dr. Kneeland the faery realms of auscultatory 

Heart and lung borders were percussed with 
Tender Loving Care and blood pressure cuffs 


introduced. It was a great shock to some when a 
diastolic murmur was heard over a pal's aortic 
area. With reluctance and a blush the instructor 
was informed and the murmur turned out to be 
nothing but the normal ///// thip. 

Our debut in the doctor-patient relationship 
was made in pairs (tor moral support) as we 
practiced Oslerian tactics at Goldwater and Belle- 
vue. Many a clinical clerk was told by the sea- 
soned veterans of innumerable hospital admis- 
sions, "Don't listen over there. The doctors usually 
hear the murmur here." 

We crossed the finish line with the help of 
gallons of coffee, benzedrine tablets to keep us 
awake and notebooks filled with material to look 
over a few minutes before final exams. Social 

Did you ever see such a sight in your life? 

rhe experiment failed early. Today we hear the whole ball game. 

activities ceased and the sunrise became a familiar 
site as Goodman and Gilman became the best 
seller we cuddled up in bed with. Those who 
have survived before us say that like all old medi- 
cal student memories, these days will wither and 
fade away. 

After a year of quizzes and confinement we 
were ready for a long summer vacation only to 
be informed that our vacation could be spent in 
Medicine, Surgery or some equally restful elective 
resort on the banks of the Hudson such as Psychi- 
atric or Neurological Institutes. 

It could hardly be said of us that we were sea- 
soned physicians, but in Dr. Loeb's words, we 
were "one-minute boiled eggs, but good ones." 


fat tyecvi 

Front row — Jay Haft, Kenneth Altman, Vincent Butler. Middle row — Berl Bass, Eugene Gottfried, 
Milena Lewis, Eugene Feeley, Enoch Gordis. Back row — Pindaros Vagelos, James Rathe, John 
Vecchiolla, Armando Cuccharella, Wynn Westover, George Hogle. 

CLa of 1954 

/CONSIDERING the many striking and in- 
explicable phenomena which the physician 
will encounter in his later years of practice, his 
first year of medical school provides a perfect 
background. For proof of this, merely consider 
the people who with good fortune will graduate 
in 1954. Entering as a thoroughly confused group 
of rugged individualists, within a few months 
we've emerged from the melee as a fused unit 

known as a "class." In a short time a name and 
a face became linked, and soon after that an 
added factor called personality was attached to 
the pair, and friendships began. 

But what produced this fusion? Was it the 
common ordeal of the first anatomy lab with our 
"thirty-one fellow classmates" gingerly beckoning 
to us from their marble thrones? Or was it that 
initial lecture with a famous neuro-surgeon? There 


Front row — Donald Reisfeld, David Read, Walter Tuchman. Mehran Goulian. Middle row — Richard 

Hays, Lonnie MacDonald, Kevin Hill, Marvin Lipman, Roger Jelliffe, David Palmer, Robert 

Pottenger. Back row — Joseph Mackie, Sherwin Kevy, John Jackson, Harold Smith, Joseph Bilbao, 

Elmer Lindsay, Richard Prickett. 

was no need to tell anyone in that audience about 
the oft-repeated importance of the sympathetic 
nervous system. We were "sympathetic," especially 
for the first victim in the pit. 

While on the subject of neuroanatomy, how 
many individuals can blithely maintain a supine 
position stretched over four seats when the lights 
flash on during a post-luncheon lecture? '54 has 
one, and but for the grace of their prodding 

neighbors, possibly three or four. You'd be 
amazed at the number of sleeping positions one 
can discover in those amphitheater seats. And 
speaking of the amphitheater seats — well, let's not. 
How many individuals can share the common 
aesthetic experience of viewing fallen cigarette 
ashes under a new microscope; or share the spas- 
ticity of that first exam — which brings to mind the 
staircase gymnastics of one of our female mem- 


bers. For a while there was a running argument 
on whether she lost more pounds from this activ- 
ity or from lifting that heavy gold cigarette holder. 
Where else could you find another girl who takes 
showers in chemistry lab? Where else could you 
enjoy the delight of Christmas carols issuing from 
a corner of the anatomy lab? One of this quartet 
was an inestimable tenor who won a barber shop 
quartet contest award by himself for having par- 
ticipated in four of the groups. 


But the real key to our unity lies outside the 
classroom. We're a collegiate class in a post- 
graduate institution, and we've made the most of 
it. Sure, we work; but decibel for decibel we're 
the best-known group in the dorm, as any second 
year man would fervently swear. A group of third 
floor inhabitants called the "gracious livers" (or 
was it fatty? — we always got confused) do their 
share in enhancing our Whooper-rating. We were 

ACTH at last! 

Alchemy isn't dead. 


Intimate interludes at first year parties. 

also a sports-minded class who could just as easily 
whip up a week-end jaunt to Tremblant as fall 
down the stairs to the squash courts. 

If you ask a '54 member 54 years from now 
what initiated this thing called class spirit (if he 
isn't senile), chances are he'll mention the class 
parties, in particular the first one. For these were 
really class-wide affairs. When you have a whole 
group actively participating in preparations and 
sharing the fun of the affair itself, you've found 
a means of letting everyone get to know one an- 
other. Who can forget how we nearly brought 
down the house with the magnificently ill-con- 
ceived decoration of a fifty-foot circulatory system 
plastered on the ceiling? The bizarre use of sub- 
stage lamps for stars shows what abortive evil 
lurks in the hearts of our brethren. And what par- 
ticipant can forget the way in which a show, 
which nearly fell apart suddenly, fell together in 


one evening of frantic rehearsal following a week 
of exams? Who would have guessed the creative 
ingenuity of our own "Edison" with his four- 
eyed microscope and his automatic pill dispenser? 
Some day we'll be able to sit back and look at his 
clear slides of the corps de ballet of the Cafe 
Babinski and still howl with delight. On this his- 
trionic note, who ever thought that a group of 
med students could be such an inveterate bunch 
of hams, complete with a Shakespearean actor, a 
Yankee M. C, and a troupe of song and dance 
guys and dolls ? 

In looking over our first year at P. & S., one 
thing that we can still amazedly ask is: "Who in 
the world ever thought that medical school could 
be such fun?" And we can still say — on the eve 
of that second year — "We really know how lucky 
we are to be here." 

Just write down what Dr. Clarke says and we'll figure it out later. 



DL p.&S. CU 

~\~l ACH medical student admitted to the College 
of Physicians and Surgeons automatically 
becomes a member of the P. & S. Club and is wel- 
come to participate in the various club functions. 
The P. & S. Club provides a wide range of activ- 
ities and services designed to meet the social, 
recreational and cultural needs of the students. 

The actual planning and direction of the 
P. & S. Club is in the hands of a volunteer stu- 
dent committee made up of about thirty students 
interested in working on Club activities in their 
limited free time. A Club director, supplied by 
the YMCA, works with the student committee 
and a faculty advisory board to help the committee 

initiate and develop new activities as well as 
carry on established functions. The Club director 
is also available to the student body for counsel 
or help with personal problems. 

The varied P. & S. Club activities include bi- 
weekly movies, a glee club, student-faculty dinners 
for the first year class, two annual dances, theater 
parties, informal teas, concerts and a diversified 
program of speakers. In addition the Club spon- 
sors most of the athletic activities, bridge parties 
and exhibits. During the past year, the Student 
Committee can well be proud of providing their 
fellow students with a well rounded program of 
speakers such as Mark Van Doren, Max Ways and 


Dune Johnson pilots the Christmas sho 

Professor Theodore Greene addressing the P. & S. 

Professor Theodore Greene and a variety of 
musical programs including a concert featuring 
all the musical groups active in Bard Hall. 

The P. & S. Club was first formed at Columbia 

Medical School over fifty years ago and for many 

years prior to the building of Bard Hall main- 

. tained the only dormitory facilities for the stu- 

dents and faculty. Today the P. & S. Clubroom 
on the eleventh floor of Bard Hall provides a 
center for student meetings, informal dances and 
lectures. In the past few years in addition to carry- 
ing on its varied program, the Club has played a 
major part in providing Bard Hall with a radio- 
phonograph, an amplifier, a large screen television 
set and a spotlight. 

Fridav night movies. 

Decor courtesy of the P. & S. Club. 


From row — Cominsky, Dickason, Wallis, Kanick. Standing — Moss, Freeman, Werther, Van Arsdel, Rainer, Firestein, 

Friedman, Pader. 

^flnha KJtneaa ^rlphi 

Burton S. Cominsky 
John L. Decker 
Mary Elizabeth Dickason 
Steven K. Firestein 
Morris Freeman 
Emanuel A. Friedman 
Ronald E. Herson 
Virginia Helen Kanick 
Steven M. Krane 

Anthon. D. Lefkowitz 

Samuel Madell 

Leonard M. Moss 

Elmer Pader 

John D. Rainer 

James M. Stormont 

Paul P. Van Arsdel, Jr. 

Lila Amdorska Wallis 

J. Lawrence Werther 


Poser, Moss, Editor. Goodkind and Firestein. 

UlearbooK S^latl 


Literary Editor 
Art Editor 

Leonard M. Moss 

-Steven K. Firestein 
Charles M. Poser 

Photography Editor M. Jay Goodkind 

Literary Staff 

Eugene Goldberg 
Arthur Haelig 
Victor Herbert 
Robert Austin Milch 
Nicholas Christy 

Photography Staff 

Baruch Blumberg 
Pierce Browning 
William Close 
Selden Dickinson 
Sidney Fink 
Victor Herbert 

Business Staff 

Erland Nelson 
Joseph Schipp 
Penelope Tosteson 


Front row — Benjamin Wright, Rodman Carter, John Durfey, Robert 
Salerno, Stanley Einhorn. Middle row — Allyn Kidwell, Denton Cox, 
Arthur Hall, Howard Thompson, Lonnie MacDonald. Back row — 
Anthony Smith, James Hastings, Bart Smith, Paul Van Arsdel, Richard 
O'Connell, Jay Goodkind, David Barnhouse. 

_//? e dSarcbs 


From row — David Wyman, Allyn Kidwell, John Jackson, Stanley 
Einhorn,, Merrill Bradley, James Terry. Middle row — Winthrop Fish, 
Burton Cominsky, Archibald Jacob, Nicholas Van Leeuwen, Duane Todd, 
Grove Potter, Denton Cox, Robert Ellsworth, James Neely, Hugh Mc- 
Caslin. Back row — George Allen, Rocco Raduazo, Ralph Suechting, Selden 
Dickinson, Gary Bivings, William Garcelon, Robert Van Home, Paul 
Van Arsdel, Munro Proctor, William Mohler, Arthur Hall, David Palmer, 
Joseph Bilbao, Eugene Shekitka. 

i lu J^iqma ffu 


Front row — William Revercomb, Joseph Schipp, John Bozer, Pedro Arroyo, Clayton 
DeHaan, Robert Milan. Middle row — James Thorpe, Frank Iaquinta, William Roosen, 
Leland White, Arno Macholdt, Albert Aboody. Back row — Robert Flowers, Eugene 
Speicher, John Orr, James Gerhardt, Joseph Mackie, Harold Orvis, John O'Loughlin, 
John Wheliss, Richard Michaels. 

Front row — John Ultmann, Richard 
Kaufman, Cortland Robinson. Middle 
row — Anthony Smith, Frank Symonds, 
Howard Thompson, Peter Kornfeld. 
Back row — Garth Dettinger, Eugene 
Feeley, Robert Carlson, Jay Good- 
kind, James Smith, Rodman Carter, 
Jack Oppenheimer. 

PL Clu 


Front row — Robert Silber, Samuel Hoch, Steven Firestein, Enoch Gordis. 

Middle row — Donald Holub, Paul Beres, Monroe Alenick, Paul Gerst. 

Back row — Haiyim Schwarz, Stanley Oliver, Marvin Skolnick, Robert 

Kassriel, Marvin Zimmerman, Herbert Poch, Robert Milch. 

I hi eJ-Jelta (LuJito 


Adding to Vanderbilt Ciinic. 



rue lion 




Hoist to the eighteenth floor. 

THE College of Physicians and Surgeons originated in the 
first decade of the nineteenth century through the efforts 
of the fledgling Medical Society of the County of New York, 
and occupied at the outset a small building on what is now 
Park Place, near the Battery. At that time Broadway was paved 
only as far as Canal Street, and most of the city was below 
Chambers Street. 

Two years later the College moved to Pearl Street, and 
from there in 1813 to a three-story building on Barclay Street. 
This building was enlarged, and during our stay there we 
acquired a botanical garden, currently referred to as Rocke- 
feller Center. As the Barclay Street building became inade- 
quate, the College packed itself off to Crosby Street, a mile 
farther uptown, remaining twenty years and then going up 
to Twenty-third Street for a thirty-year sojourn. It was during 
this period that we allied ourselves with Columbia College, 
subsequently expanded into the University. 

At length, in the middle 1880s, Vanderbilt Clinic and the 
Sloane Hospital were built on Tenth Avenue at Fifty-ninth 
and Sixtieth Streets, and the College then moved to its home 
opposite Roosevelt Hospital, where it remained until the 
Medical Center was erected. 

In the spring of 1$>49 the Medical Center began a recon- 
struction plan which all of us have watched with interest, and 
which continues at the present time with the construction of 
the Memorial Chapel in the Presbyterian Hospital garden. 
The Development Program was designed to integrate the New 
York Orthopedic Hospital and Dispensary with the other hos- 


pitals here at the Medical Center, and to expand many of the 
existing facilities essential to the operation of the Center. 

The extensive interior and exterior modifications were 
accomplished with surprisingly little alteration of the hos- 
pital's efficiency, and were planned in such a way that no 
essential service was jeopardized at any time. As each addi- 
tional section was remodelled, partitions were erected to segre- 
gate all construction activities and minimize annoyance by 
dust and noise. Doormats were seen outside the entrances to 
all areas being repaired. Welding was substituted for riveting 
on most of the steelwork so that patients would be disturbed 
as little as possible. The funds expended in these construction 
activities were enormous. 

Early projects were the modernization of the laundry and 
the construction of a 20-bed Premature Nursery on the second 
floor of Babies Hospital. At about the same time steelwork 
was going up for the five-story addition to Vanderbilt Clinic, 
designed to afford more clinic space and room for additional 
laboratories for cancer research. The X-ray Department on the 
third floor of Presbyterian Hospital was enlarged, and a new 
radiotherapy suite added; Harkness X-ray also was given addi- 
tional space. 

In order to permit modernization of operating room facili- 
ties on the eighteenth floor without hindering the operating 
schedule, a temporary Delivery Suite was constructed on the 
sixteenth floor, and Sloane Hospital delivery rooms were taken 
over by the surgeons. Additional operating rooms were needed 
to handle the patient load from New York Orthopedic Hos- 
pital. McCosh Amphitheater was cleaned out and replaced 
by a surgical recovery room as well as a new home for the 
Blood Bank on the twentieth floor. 

Provision for New York Orthopedic Hospital required 

Tool sheds in the garden. 

Francis Delafield 
Memorial Hospital. 

The old P. & S. on 59th Street, 1931. 

remodelling of the fifth floor of Presbyterian 
Hospital, and a ramp was built to Babies Hos- 
pital so that the orthopedists would have a com- 
plete floor for their use. Final transfer of patients 
from the old hospital building on East Fifty-ninth 
Street was accomplished last December during a 
snowstorm when thirty-four patients were moved 
in sixteen ambulances. New orthopedic facilities 
had to be designed in Vanderbilt Clinic. 

Seventh floor facilities 



building were remodelled for private service and 
for a contagious diseases unit. 

The basement kitchen was modernized and 
enlarged. The Staff Dining Room and the Per- 
sonnel Dining Room were both enlarged by ex- 
tension into the garden, and a new Soda Fountain 
was constructed. The Record Room was modern- 
ized, new offices were built in Babies Hospital, 
and Presbyterian Hospital solaria were enclosed 
with windows. Facilities were made available for 
the Hofheimer Speech and Hearing Clinic. 

Throughout this period the final touches were 
being put on Francis Delafield Hospital for the 
treatment of cancer. Built by New York City on 
land contributed by Columbia, the hospital was 
long delayed by wartime and post-war shortages. 
Eventually it was completed, however, and put 
into operation in the fall of 1950. A 300-bed 
unit, it houses a two-million volt x-ray machine, 
the largest radiotherapy apparatus in the City Hos- 
pital system. 

Most conspicuous at the present time is the 
work proceeding in the garden on the foundation 
of the Memorial Chapel provided for by the John 
A. Hartford Foundation in memory of Mrs. Hart- 
ford, wife of a hospital trustee. 

The old, old Hospital at Park Avenue. 

JZ~jsrH\ - I 

The garden as it appeared before construction. 

The garden in its present condition. 

The architect's conception of the Memorial Chapel. 



s^tchn owledqtn en ti 


The Editor wishes to express his sincere gratitude to: 

Dean Aura E. Severinghaus for his encouragement and guidance. 

Misses Anna Shackelford and Barbara Phelps for their organization of 
the material used in the text. 

Miss Nicola Russell and Mr. Hansel Baugh for their part in the dis- 
tribution of the Yearbook. 

Mr. Hugh King and Mr. Gus Leona for their invaluable aid at 
"Charlie's Desk." 

The Alumni News for the use of their fine photographs. 

Mr. Wharton of the Public Relations Office for the engravings pre- 
viously used in The Stethoscope. 

Look Magazine for the use of their photographs of Internship Day. 

Mr. Robert Kelly and Mr. Harold Halton for their friendly cooperation 
and technical advice. 

Mr. E. Atrick for his portraits of the Senior Class. 







Extends Its Sincerest Good Wishes 




The American Journal of Medicine 

Presents Today's Medicine for Tomorrow's Use 

Publishes the combined Staff Conference from 
the College of Physicians and Surgeons; also 
sixteen other Staff Conferences each year; the 
reports of three Investigational Societies; two 
Symposia and over 1800 pages of new medical 
findings yearly. 

Editor Alexander B. Gutman, m.d., New York 

Advisory Board STUDENT SUBSCRIPTION (U.S.A.) — S10 yearly 

DAVID p. BARR, M.D., New York 

francis g. blake, m.d., San Francisco Regular Subscription (U.S.A.)— S12 yearly 

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of you and your classmates upon your school life achieve 
9 immortality in a carefully planned and executed yearbook. 

From the arid desert of Arizona, and the sultry green island 
of Puerto Rico, to the snow-blanketed slopes of Northern 
New England, we have traveled, happy and proud to have 
been an instrument in the translating into print, the humor 
pathos, excitement, and sentiment found in the campus 
9 life of over seventy-five colleges and preparatory schools. 

As former members of yearbook staffs in our school days, 

we bring into our professional duties a real understanding 

of the many prob'ems confronting each yearbook editor. 

Congratulations and Best Wishes 
to the 
CLASS OF 1951 


Keep in Touch with Each Other Through the 



New York 27, N. Y. 

Published monthly icith the exception of August and September by the 

Alumni Federation of Columbia University 



Centrifugal and Process Engineers 




This book is due on the date indicated below, or at the 
expiration of a definite period after the date of borrowing, as 
provided by the library rules or by special arrangement with 
the Librarian in charge. 


r . 

3 1 1flS 





C2H (ll49) IOOM 




ft & 4